


Cruel Intentions

by outlandosdamour



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 04:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlandosdamour/pseuds/outlandosdamour
Summary: My first ever one-shot! The base of this story is from Shiizakana. I tried to make it an AU where reader is the one who kills Randall Tier. Will doesn't know about Hannibal sending Randall to Wolf Trap for him in this AU as well. So, nothing about Hannibal being the Chesapeake Ripper either. It's a slow burner (about 2,850 words) with some fluff! TWs: very mild gore.





	Cruel Intentions

You lived in Wolf Trap, Virginia with your long-time boyfriend Will in his quaint little house. He was currently in Baltimore after a call he received from Jack Crawford the previous night. You hated sleeping alone; mostly because you hated the idea of Will being in the field with the FBI. It wasn't the FBI part you hated, though. You just hated it because you've seen how much this stuff has taken a toll on him in the past.

With the help of the dogs keeping you company and giving you a sense of security, you managed to finally fall asleep. It can get creepy out in the middle of nowhere when you're alone. Will deliberately left his P226 in his sidetable drawer for you whenever he was away. He'd taken you out a few times in the back of the large property for target practice, shooting cans and makeshift body targets. Of course he wasn't keen on the thought of you ever having to use it, but because of past events, he felt it was necessary that you could defend yourself if something were to happen.

Your eyes fluttered open and you rolled onto your side to take a quick look at the clock sitting on your sidetable. It was just after 2 in the morning, and not even 5 seconds after you stirred awake, the dogs started perking up. A few of them walked up to the door and started whining. It was always strange that you woke up just seconds before things would happen, and you could almost swear that you had a sixth-sense for that, but realistically it was just your unconscious brain finally registering what had just occurred. You blinked a few times and rubbed your temples that were pulsating with a slight tension headache.

You pushed yourself up out of bed without bothering to turn the lamp on and waddled towards the dogs in attempt to calm them down. You and Will had seen this happen before with them; usually there would be a raccoon on the porch scurrying about trying to find some food, as they often come around in the early morning hours. But when you peeked out the window, you saw nothing. You flicked on the porch light and went back to sit on the bed and turn the lamp on when you heard commotion outside. This was startling.

The dogs started going ballistic. You got up again and took another peek outside. You still didn't see anything on the porch. But, to clear your conscience, you shushed the dogs and unlocked the door to step outside and investigate, although mostly figuring that it was just an animal.

As soon as you opened the door a crack, the smallest of all the strays that Will had collected over the years, Buster, slipped out and flew off the porch into the snow toward the forest that took up the front of the property. You closed the door so the rest of the dogs didn't escape and slipped your boots on in a hurry after him. But before you could even reach the bottom step of the porch, you heard Buster yelp from the dark cluster of trees ahead.

You panicked. You ran back inside to Will's sidetable and pulled out the gun that he had left along with a flashlight from his desk. You slammed the front door shut and ran out through the 3 feet of snow toward the pitch black. You were terrified inside, you didn't know what creature was out there and you wanted to just crawl under the bed and hide, but your dogs life was more important to you.

As soon as you reached the lush forest, you tripped over tree stumps and vein-y roots until your flashlight landed on your injured dog laying helplessly on the snow covered ground. You heard him whimpering and knelt down to check him out. You put the flashlight in your mouth, scooped Buster up with one hand, holding him against your chest, and held your gun in the other hand – shaking violently. You did a 360 a few times, holding the injured dog, but saw nothing. You figured it must've been coyote that got Buster and got spooked when he heard you coming.

You rushed through the fresh white snow back to the house and laid him on his dog bed. He wasn't badly hurt, but he had a laceration on his side that was bleeding quite a bit. You were still uneasy about whatever was outside, and as much as you wanted to believe it was a coyote, your gut instinct was telling you otherwise. You slipped the gun into the waistband of your pajama bottoms and went to lock the front door. The other dogs still had their hair up, growling at the door. A few of them gathered around Buster. You turned the porch light off and went into the kitchen to grab some supplies from the first aid kit, since you wouldn't be able to get Buster to a vet until morning.

When you came back into the room, all of the dogs were now snarling at the door. You dashed over and turned the light out on the sidetable that you had left on before. You pulled the gun from your waist band and stood dead centre in the room, aiming it at the door. Your hands were still shaking and your palms were sweating, but you kept telling yourself to stay calm.

Just as you were about to approach the door any closer, something broke through one of the windows. In a flash, you fired relentlessly at the creature, eventually taking it out after multiple shots. It happened so fast, you had no time to even comprehend it. You were shaking, wailing, and heaving for air. It didn't feel real. Your eyes were soaked with tears, you couldn't stand up without losing balance. You sat there, marveling at the creature bathing in a pile of blood before you for what felt like hours, but was really only a couple of minutes. It wasn't a coyote or mountain lion. It was a human. In an animal suit. Some kind of animal. Some kind of robotic creature. With teeth the size of some of a prehistoric bear that you'd only ever see on TV. The dogs were frightened and cowering in the corner. You sat there for another 10 minutes, bawling on and off before managing to stand up to reach for the phone. You unfolded a piece of paper that you left on the table beside the phone and shakily dialed then number on it. You silently tried to compose yourself before the lobby of the motel Will was staying at answered. You were pushing through tears and trying your best to sound the least bit distressed when you relayed his room number. You quivered at the the sight in front of you as you were waiting to be put through to Will. Seconds later, a tired voice picked up.

"Hello?" his question posed slight concern, probably from being on a case.

"W-Will...I-I just. Something... someone broke into the house and I... I killed someone". You couldn't keep your composition any longer.

"...What? What happened? Y/N, what happened? Are you okay? Are-" you cut him off as he was clearly growing frantic.

"Will. No, no. Oh god. A-... A man, a man in an animal suit," you trailed off.

Will was silent on the other end. You cleared your throat and choked the tears back for a moment.

"Will?"

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Y-You killed him, you shot him?". He sounded a mix of horrified, worried and upset.

"Buster got out. I- He... he ran off into the forest and I went after him. Injured. Brought him back in. I thought it was a coyote," you said hurriedly. You took a deep breath and slowed your roll. "I had your gun the whole time but I... I didn't see anything out there," tears burned your eyes again. "I went into the kitchen for the first aid kit. Came back to the livingroom. He broke through the window. I-I just shot. I didn't know. Will, I killed someo-"

"I'm coming. Wait for me. Don't. Call. The police yet. I love you". He spoke quickly with fear in his voice and hung up.

You realized what had just happened wasn't intended to happen to you. You sat yourself on the sofa and had been sitting in the same place for just over 45 minutes racking your brain when you saw headlights shine through the window. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but couldn't. A few moments later, Will swung the door open and rushed up to you. He pulled you up off of the sofa and embraced you so tightly you felt like you were going to pop. Will holding you after you had just been panicking for what seemed like hours upon hours made you feel safe again. You were silently weeping into his chest when he pulled away and kissed you. You knew that with his empathy it meant you were his priority.

He then walked over to the body of the person in the creature suit and knelt down to take a look at the lifeless face plastered against the floor. He sat there for a minute, without saying anything, then stood up and went to the phone. He reported the murder to the dispatcher along with information for the FBI and hung up a few moments later. Your body shuddered just hearing the word 'murder' come out of his mouth. Your knees became weak again and you sat yourself back down on the sofa. By now, it was approaching 5AM, and the winter sun was peaking through the windows giving you a better look at the man behind the suit. He was a white man, maybe in his mid-twenties from what you could tell.

Will came and sat beside you on the sofa again. He was quiet, but not in spite of you or what you had done. He put a hand on the small of your back and turned to face you. You knew that he wasn't good with eye contact, but over the years you've been together, he had found comfort in your eyes. You bit your lip in hopes to prevent another break down and Will pulled you in for a hug. You held onto him for dear life until the cops came to the door. And soon after that, the FBI.

You recognized Bev, Jimmy and Brian as they popped through the door. They all came up to you and had a few comforting words to say, and then began their own investigation, taking photos, fingerprints; marking off any and all possible evidence from the scene. Will had ordered someone to come in and take Buster to the vet as well. Hours and multiple questionings with the FBI later, you had a moment to yourself. Jack Crawford had spoken to you minutes ago and you had been terrified that something might happen to you, though Jack was kind and reassuring that you were going to be okay and that it's a good thing that he can't kill any more people. He had told you that a young couple and a truck driver had been murdered recently in a vicious way and that this was the suspected killer they had been looking for. He was weary about telling you, but you told him you were fine. You even pressed a little and Jack told you that he had mutilated his victims with the cavebear skull suit he wore. They hadn't seen anything like it before. That's what Will was investigating in Baltimore.

Will kept reminding you between questionings that you'd be fine as well, taking every chance he could to check up on you, but you still felt fear in the pit of your stomach. The body was taken away, though the mess was still present and Bev and the gang were still inside taking evidence. You were now sat outside on the top step of the porch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Will managed to break away from the scene for a minute to sit with you. You were silent, he was still concerned. He took your hands and held them in his. They were warm, and you knew yours were cold as ice. You didn't look at him.

"He wanted me, Y/N. You weren't his intended target".

That only made you even more upset, even though you managed to figure that out yourself earlier. You finally looked over at Will, who was staring down at your hands that he was still holding.

"I don't know what to say, Will".

"Well," he started, "you have nothing to be ashamed of. You didn't do anything wrong. Any rational person would have done the same thing. I would have done the same thing". He leaned over and kissed your temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. "I love you". He spoke softly and comfortingly and smiled lightly against your skin.

You swallowed hard and drew a shaky breath. "Jack told me. This is the guy... this what you were in Baltimore for all along". He nodded.

"His name was Randall Tier. He worked at a museum in Baltimore. Crafted the cavebear skull and claws get-up himself. Tore his victims to shreds".

You got goosebumps at the the thought of something happening to Will. Why was Will his intended victim? You mustered up the strength asked him. Maybe it was wrong to ask, but you had to know.

"I don't know. We haven't figured that out yet. Maybe he's read about me? Good ol' Tattlecrime," he said calmly. "He must have been a fan of the Chesapeake ripper to want to kill me," Will sighed before continuing, "there's some connection there".

You leaned your head against Will's shoulder and he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. His arm snaked around your side and held you close.

"Listen, you took a bad guy off the streets, Y/N. Someone who was only just getting started with his killings" he paused for a second. "There's no doubt that he wanted to play with his costume some more. Your courage saved lives. Hell, you saved mine".

Just then, Jack stepped out onto the porch and descended to the snow covered ground, standing before you and Will.

"We'll send a team in to clean, we're done with investigations. You two deserve some time alone, I think". He knelt down to your level and took his hat off as a respectful gesture. "You did the right thing. You helped. I know it's difficult to cope with, it might be hard for a while, but you have nothing to worry about, Y/N". Jack said his goodbyes to you and Will and the team packed up and left. The two of you waited outside while the clean-up crew made their rounds. After all was finished, it was early evening. The two of you headed back in and you went and called the vet to check up on Buster. The receptionist told you he was out of surgery and ready to be brought home the following day. You were happy to hear that, and went to report the news to your boyfriend who was in the kitchen making tea. You came up from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You could tell that he was tense, which wasn't anything new, but he immediately relaxed at your touch.

"You okay?" he questioned, turning his head to look at you.

"I think so. I called the vet, they said Buster will be ready to come home tomorrow". He smiled. You knew how much his dogs meant to him. The others had been locked up most of the day while the FBI were investigating, and now they were sleeping peacefully in the livingroom by the crackling fireplace that Will had started. He turned and handed you a mug, you kissed him on the lips as a thanks. You both made your way into the livingroom and sat on the sofa together. You were both drained. You looked over to where Randall's body was once laying. There was a faint stain of blood that you covered with a rug. You frowned. Will noticed that was bothering you and kissed your temple. He almost always knew how you felt and what you were thinking, and that was comforting. He lowered his head to whisper in your ear, "I'm proud of you, baby. I'm so thankful you're alright. I love you, Y/N".


End file.
